


Life Is Beautiful

by SharkPup



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Suicide, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicide Attempt, aaaaa idk what to tag, but don't worry, homestuck character might show up later, i doubt anyone will read this but oh wELL, i wrote this as if the reader were me, noone actually kills themselves, this is kind of a reader insert but not really, this is kind of a vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkPup/pseuds/SharkPup
Summary: I wrote this at a bad time in my life, but I feel it helped me vent at the time. Originally it was going to be a one-shot type of deal, but I think I could make a short series out of this. As I said, I wrote this when I was feeling quite down, but it isn't the saddest, and I guess I want to post it as a way to show everyone that life is better than what you think sometimes? Idk, plus i've already got an ironic twist ending in mind :')Basically this is like a reader insert fic based on Endangered by mortior, where you fall in love with a random android.





	

Sneaking out was easy enough, simply slipping away while the others slept. You'd think what with their current situation, they'd all be light sleepers. But as it turns out, you could walk right around them without stirring a soul. The tunnels echoed loudly with each step you took, worried your friends would awake. It was probably just your anxiety making everything seem twice as loud as it truly was though. 

 

You walked the subway for what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, until you saw a familiar flickering light. A single candle resting atop the edge of a platform, dimly lighting the area around it as it waited patiently. You had left it there when your group returned from scavenging the the city for any possible resources, planning to come back later tonight. Which you currently were, obviously. 

 

There wasn't much to hold onto, but you managed to heave yourself up onto the platform with some effort. The candle offered little warmth as you picked it up. The tunnels were not exactly the most temperate of places, and the air was chilled with autumn soon around the corner. Hopefully you wouldn't be around long enough to experience the harsher weather, if your plan was successful anyways. And there was very little chance of failure at this point. You see, what you were planning wasn't really all that difficult to accomplish. 

 

To put it simply: You plan to kill yourself.

 

Or be killed, is more like it. You could definitely throw yourself into a dangerous situation if death was imminent, but you'd never have the courage to actually drive a shard of glass through your own throat. Or something like that. You're not quite sure where that example came from, but it felt oddly fitting.

 

Let's not get off track though. With candle in hand, you make your way around the subway. Hugging the walls as you walk, you manage to find, and almost trip, onto some stairs. If you remember correctly, your sister said these would lead up to the south side of town. Most of the refugees lived up north, where your group was headed. Hopefully you wouldn't have to wait long for company. If anyone found out you'd left and came after you, they'd keep you on high watch. 

 

Or worse, if they come at the wrong time. You could never forgive yourself if anyone important got hurt because of you're own stupidity. Well, you wouldn't call it stupid actually. Your actions were. . .misguided? No, that's not it. Oh who cares, certainly not you. In fact, the only thing on your mind right now is lifting the makeshift hatch over the entry, left by previous scouters.

 

It was heavy, and creaked loudly, echoing into the darkness. You flinched as carried on, hoping no one would hear. After some heavy lifting, you manage an opening small enough to fit through. You debate for a few moments with yourself before deciding to move the hatch back. If anyone came after you, this should delay them momentarily. 

 

Heading down the old dirt path, you reminisce a little. You've had. . . a fair life, up to this point. You were born into a world ruled by technology, living underground was all you've ever known. Of course there were trips to the surface, can't survive without food. You've only been up a few times before, hence this part of town being unfamiliar to you. A giant piece of metal blocked your way, a car right? You've never seen one working, and the old hunk of junk creaks with age as you heave yourself over it. You wipe the red powder off your hands onto your shorts. 

 

Many buildings littered what seemed to be a large field. Some were tall, others seemed to have been cut down. You were tempted to go inside one and perhaps find an old painting. You wouldn't have much use for it though, just like you're sketchbook you left behind. It was your one memento. 

 

You don't remember your dad, he died long ago. He'd be disappointed in you right now, but back then he seemed so proud. He had given you his sketchbook, it was old and worn, but it was his. Most of the pages had been empty, he wanted you to fill them. And you did. In fact, you had written a small goodbye on the last page. 

 

You don't remember your mom either, dad said she died giving birth. She was ill, and they didn't have much medicine in the underground. Death sure seems to be a reoccurring topic so far.  It was a reoccurring topic of conversation at camp though, and it occupied over half of your thoughts. You look out at the sunset and think 'It's a nice day to die.'

 

A distant thud catches your attention and your heart skips a beat. You hide behind another car, crouching and watching through the window. You berate yourself moments later. Hiding would defeat the entire purpose of coming out here! 

 

Although, not a lot of people got the chance to look at them closely before they die. More often than not, humans were killed on sight. Millions slaughtered in the most brutal ways. At least their deaths were quick. Lucky ducks. Repeated thumps interrupted your inner monologue. Looking up showed a faint pink light illuminating the nearby buildings. 

 

When it walked into view, your first thought was 'It's beautiful.' 


End file.
